This week’s update

Well, the big news is that I saw my new doctor on Tuesday, and got back the results of the labs I had drawn the week before.  TSH was normal, so Ms. New Doc did not want to discuss thyroid one word more.  She said, lets start fresh, tell me your symptoms.  So  I did, and her diagnosis is Fibromyalgia.  She wants to start me on Cymbalta, ,which is (three guesses and the first two don’t count….) an antidepressant.  It is indicated for pain and a few other things beside depression but the side effects are horrific on paper.  Her directions to me?  “Take one every night for a week, and if you tolerate it, if you’re not suicidal, take two.”  Uh…. really?

I haven’t filled the prescription yet.  Part of me feels like they’re just dumping me again, not treating me as a person.  The Fibromyalgia diagnosis is sketchy; the two criteria for diagnosis are 1.) Generalized body pain (check!) and 2.) Eleven of eighteen “tender points“, which are specific points on the body, bilaterally, which are literally tender to touch.  I have Zero. I counted.  Twice.

My labs were basically fine; Vitamin D is still low despite mega supplements so I’m going to take mondo doses daily now, along with Calcium, Magnesium, B12, and C.  Antibodies were positive, confirming my theory about the last month or two, that I was having a Hashi’s attack.

I asked about Chronic Fatigue Syndrome vs Fibromyalgia; she said “they’re the same thing.”  Which they’re not really, but yeah, they’re in the same group of diseases.

She wanted me to have a Head CT to rule out MS. Which I did; results pending, but I don’t expect anything amiss.

So where does this leave me?  Pretty much where I started; nowhere.  Murphy is rooting for Fibromyalgia, since then I can stop messing with the diet.  The gluten free thing is really hard, much harder than veg*nism.

Other things this week:

The 23rd was the Anniversary of Dorothy’s passing.  It was a little hard, but much of the time it feels like she’s still in Las Vegas, until we go to send

A Plethora Of Plums

that cute picture of Murph and realize again that she’s not there to receive it.  On a spiritual poetic justice kind of level, we are having an absolute banner year for our plums, which Dorothy loved.  The first year we moved here, there was a huge harvest, but since then most of the time there’s been very little.  We blamed it on our Black Thumbs, as I kill everything.  This winter, one of the storms knocked down a tree right through the middle of one of the plum trees, and we thought it was a goner.  Instead, this year the harvest is ridiculous.  Peru picked a huge boxful, and said it was only about one third of what’s left.  Today, we sorted cleaned, and gifted bags to the neighbors and I’m cooking the rest now down for jelly.  I haven’t canned in years, so this should be interesting.  So now you all know what you’re getting for Christmas, right?

On the way to take Eric to a JOB interview (whoo hooo) we stopped at the hardware store and with our dwindling funds bought canning jars, sugar and pectin, so tomorrow, I go wild.  Tonight, I might even try making some plum ice cream.  The house is filled with the smell of simmering plums; yum!

I’ve had a chance to connect a little with my eldest, who’s been a little absent lately, even when he’s here.  Several nice long chats, like we used to do. It felt really good.  I have missed him a lot.

Tomorrow, Peru’s “Band-In-Training” is playing for the Solstice Festival in Mira Monte. Should be fun!

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